


My Love, What To Say To You?

by casstayinmyass



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Love Actually Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Bisexual Thomas Jefferson, Burr Has Regrets, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, F/M, Gay James Madison, Heartbreak, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Intertwining Storylines, James Is Smol Protect Him, Kissing, Laf Is Really Fab, Lesbian Angelica Schuyler, Love Actually AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Angst, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension, non-binary Lafayette, president jefferson, some have happy endings, stress smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9158386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Love Actually AU. Six intertwining romantic stories revolving around the holidays begin in early December and culminate on the most magical night of the year- Christmas Eve.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Years! May 2017 bring the Hamfam much joy (and may you be blessed with Hamilton tickets and merch!) 
> 
> Enjoy :D

If you ever lose faith in the world, just take a look at the arrivals gate at the airport. People nowadays try to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but that's not always the case... it seems that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends, new friends. When the revolutionary war came about in history, none of the messages the soldiers sent from Valley Forge were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love.

If you look for it, you'll find that love, actually, is all around.

** Three Weeks To Christmas **

To say Aaron coveted what Marcus had was an understatement- though the honourably discharged lt. colonel turned jeweller had been a friend of his for a considerable time, Aaron always found himself comparing his own life to Mark's... in almost every aspect.

"Do you, Marcus Prevost, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the man asked, and the British groom smiled, nodding.

"I do."

"And do you, Theodosia Bartow, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Aaron knew what he had done was wrong. Sleeping with Theodosia ten years ago knowing full well how his friend felt about her at the time... right after expressing his intentions to ask her out... After everything, it had resulted in a baby girl. Theodosia had devised with Aaron to tell Mark that Theo Jr. was from a past relationship, not letting him in on just who that had been with.

Regardless, Aaron had assured Theo in a quick text sent back then that it was only sex for him that one time. It had nothing to do with feelings. So why did it crush him so much to hear-

"I do," Theodosia smiled up at her new husband, and Aaron suddenly felt sick. _Merry Christmas to me and my sad, hopeless existence,_ he thought miserably, then gave the couple a thumbs up as he held up a video camera.

❅❅❅

George King tapped his pinky finger along to the beat as it lead him in to the hook of the song he was currently recording.

_"And when push, comes to shove- I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love, da da da dat da, da-"_

"Sir, sir!" his manager, Samuel Seabury, held up his hands, "I'm afraid you did it again."

"What?"

"You did the original version. The _non_ -Christmas version."

"Ah," George muttered, "So it would seem. Yes, let's try this again." The pop star cleared his throat. " _And when push, comes to shove... I will send a fully armed batta-_ "

"No, nope," Samuel winced, and shook his head. "Again, sorry."

George huffed a sigh. This whole holiday re-working of his old hit breakup song "You'll Be Back" was obnoxious and petty... everything that George, evidently, embodied.

"Okay, alright." He cleared his throat. "And when push, comes to shove- I will send a bundled box of chocolates and a jolly Christmas card! Da da da dat da, dat da da da daya da, da da da da daya da!"

Samuel clapped giddily, giving him a thumbs up. "Wonderful, George, just brilliant!"

George smirked. "I know."

❅❅❅

The stretch limo pulled up to the white house, cameras flashing everywhere as the new president's car door was opened. Buttoning up his grey and plum-coloured tux, out stepped Thomas Jefferson, newly dubbed 43rd President Jefferson, waving and blowing kisses to the crowds.

"They love me," he grinned to his handler, who was a short balding man named John Adams.

"That's because they don't know you yet," Adams retorted, and lead him inside. "This will be your staff here in the House for the next four years- get to know them well, they are paid to do whatever you ask them."

"Whatever I ask?" Thomas asked, eyeing a pretty brunette up and down flirtatiously. John cleared his throat.

"Sir... this is Miss Hemings, your secretary."

"Pleasure, doll," Thomas winked, and Sally suppressed a scowl.

"Martha Wayles, your housekeeper."

"An honour," Thomas embellished, kissing her hand. Martha managed a giggle.

"John Church Hamilton, your butler." Jefferson shuddered.

"I knew a Hamilton once in high school... hated him, he was an asshole. But you look great, though!" Adams sighed, and they went on down the line until they reached the end, where a shorter but rather muscular man stood with one hand behind his back.

"And this is Mr. Madison, your head of catering."

"Pleased to serve you, sir."

"Mmm, the pleasure's all mine, sugar," Thomas chuckled, a little awestruck. "Now how did a little guy like you get so lucky to score a spot in my presidential squad, hm?"

"I'd say you're the lucky one to have me behind you," James replied coolly, not skipping a beat.

Thomas was caught off guard by the witty answer... beaten at his own game, he liked that. His eyes lingered on Madison's attractive frame, leaning in as he passed to whisper:

"If you play your cards right, _I_ just might get behind _you_ by the time I'm re-elected," he hissed cockily, grinning. This time, Madison had no snappy retort... only a hidden blush.

Thomas liked a challenge, but he always got the last laugh.  

Always.

❅❅❅

"Okay, we've got exactly six hundred seventy two hours and thirty nine minutes to get this show on the road," Alexander called out through the office, standing up on Lee's swivel chair, and Burr looked up.

"Thirty eight," he corrected, and Alex nodded, wagging his finger.

"Even closer- now people, if we're going to make this happen, we need to find a venue!"

"Man... where are we gonna book one this close to Christmas?" John, Alex's marketing consultant, asked. Alex looked over at him.

"I think I could make a few calls," a woman said, and turned around in her chair to face Alex, who swallowed thickly before putting his boss-voice back on.

"Oh, would you, Maria? I appreciate it- I'd do it, but I'm already taking care of all the-"

"Shhh, hey," the seductive voice of his employee washed over Alex like a hot tidal wave, "You've been working non-stop for the past few days... you need to take a break."

"That's what my wife keeps telling me," the boss of the company sighed.

"Forget about your wife for a minute..." Maria whispered with a pout, "Aren't I enough?" Alex quickly turned away, choosing to look over these blatant advances as he always did.

"Right, you get on those calls, then- Mr. Burr! Can I see you in my office, please?!" Purposefully ignoring Miss Lewis as he jogged into his private office with Aaron, he closed the door and sat on his desk. "What's up?"

"What?" Aaron asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"You're acting all despondent... what's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter, Alex," Burr muttered. He wasn't about to pour his heart out to his boss in the middle of an already crappy Monday, and besides- "You never care this much, you're distracting yourself from your own inner turmoil."

"Excuse me?! I... you think I don't care?!"

"It's true."

"Whatever," Alex huffed, making _pshhh_ noises and waving it off, "I'm... not... ha! I was worried about..." He frowned. "Go get back to work, Burr." Aaron just smirked at him, and left the office.

Alexander checked his texts, and found a picture Eliza had sent him. It was a picture of her in front of cookies fresh out of the oven, obviously taken by Angelica, one of his children's little arms in the frame as he tried to steal one off the pan. Alex felt a smile start to grow, but despite the warmth his family brought him, he still found himself drawn to the dark, sultry eyes he knew were staring at him through the glass walls of his office.

❅❅❅

Hercules wasn't one to rush into love... but when love came along, he wasn't one to close his doors. He had been with Elizabeth for over a year now, his Elizabeth, his gorgeous, wonderful, amazing Lizzie, and every day, waking up next to her with her hair sprawled around her like a halo was a miracle in itself.

"Morning," he whispered to her. He was spooning her, holding her smaller body in his muscular arms. She roused a little, mumbling, then opened one eye.

"'M sick."

"You're sick?" Herc cooed in her ear, "Aw, baby... that sucks. We were supposed to go out today!"

"I know, but... I've got a stuffy nose," Liz replied, rolling over with a pout, "I feel like 100%, free range shit."

"Would this make it better?" Herc grinned with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and began placing kisses all over her face. She pushed him away with a tired smile.

"You're going to catch my cold. Go get me some meds, dumbass, I'll be here waiting when you're back."

"The lines are going to be crazy today in the pharmacy," Herc groaned, "All I want to do is stay here and snuggle you."

"I'll be up to it once I get better," she told him, and nudged him one last time to get going.

"I love you!" he called as he threw on his scarf and ran out the door. He was sure she called back to him- he just closed the door too soon.

The tailor spent the entire day thinking about her- how it would be once Liz got pregnant, if she wanted to or ever did, and how much fun they would have raising kids together. Hercules had even bought that vacation home in France the year before, so that when they did have a family or when they wanted an adult weekend together, they could have it out in a cute little french cottage on a lake. 

When he got home, he was surprised to run into his brother, rifling through the fridge.

"Hugh?" Hercules grinned, "What're you doing here?" His older brother hit his head on the top of the fridge in surprise, and looked up nervously.

"Herc! Hi... didn't think y-you would be home just yet!"

"And why did you decide to grace me and the missus with your presence, bro? Caught the Christmas bug?" Hercules teased, grabbing some milk from the open fridge door. Hugh opened his mouth, but someone else, a much higher, more feminine voice, spoke out from down the hall.

 _"Hurry up, big boy! I'm naked and want you at least twice before Herc gets home!"_ Hercules let the milk glass fall to the floor, his whole world shattering to pieces with it. Off to the vacation home it was, then.

The Christmas season sucked.

❅❅❅

Eliza giggled, watching her sister send the picture off to Alex. Angie stuffed two cookies in her mouth, munching on them until crumbs fell all over her bright green Christmas sweater.

"Get a napkin if you're gonna steal all those cookies, babe," her mother told her, and Angelica smiled.

"I'm so glad I could make it out here from London for the holidays."

"I know! It's too bad Adrienne got stuck with a shift on Christmas," Eliza fretted, and Angelica smiled, thinking of her wife.

"Such is the life of an airline attendant. A very pretty, _in demand_ airline attendant."

"Yeah... well, she's gotta come for Easter, at least, I'm sure she can get that time off. Oh, I'm just so happy you're here! I don't know what I would do if I couldn't see you!" Eliza smiled, "I mean... I guess it's also good to have you around after..."

"I know," Angelica nodded, the mood sobering a little, "It's been a month, and I still can't believe she's gone."

"Philip's taking it the hardest," Eliza sighed, staring wistfully down the hall at a closed door, "He hasn't come out of his room very much at all since news of his Aunt Peggy's accident, and... I just don't want to think about what he could be getting up to in there!"

"He's only nine," Angelica pointed out.

"But his mind is older," Eliza scoffed, "You should see the stuff he writes for school- he's a little poet."

"I don't doubt it," Angelica put a comforting arm around your sister, "If it'd make you feel better, I'll pay him a visit."

"God, Ang, thanks... sometimes it can only be an auntie thing, y'know?"

Angelica nodded, patting Eliza and standing to approach Philip's door. "Pip? 'S me."

 Silence.

"You can't hide forever- I'm coming in." Closing the door behind her, she found Philip sitting on his bed, covers pulled up close. "Pip, your mom's really worried about you." Still, silence. Angelica sat carefully on the edge of the nine-year-old's bed, cautious to give him his space. "I know it must be very hard for you right now. It's hard for all of us- we all loved her very dearly. But... there comes a time when we have to move on, or _we_ won't be able to live our lives anymore." Angelica sighed. "Philip?"

Philip looked up, and blinked. "Can I tell you what's been bothering me, Aunt Angelica?" he asked, in a very frank voice.

"Of course," Angelica frowned, reaching out hand. Philip took it, and looked down dejectedly.

"I know I should still be pretty broken up about Aunt Peggy... and I am! Really, I miss her. But... I get what you're saying, and... see, truth is..." he looked back up again with a shrug, "I'm in love."

Angelica stared for a second, then began to cough to mask her laughter. "Love? You're... in love?" Philip simply nodded.

"Yes."

"Uhh..." Angelica couldn't help but let a chuckle out, "I could be mistaken, but aren't you a tad young still to be in love?" Philip frowned at her as if she had just said the strangest thing in the world.

"No?" the boy replied matter of factly, and Angelica immediately dropped her smile.

"Oh. No, of course, right- sorry." She patted the seat on the bed next to her, which Philip eventually crawled into. "Well then, details are in order. What's their name?"

"Her name's Theodosia, and she's the most beautiful creature to ever have walked this earth."

Angelica's eyebrows shot up. "Wow... she must be something."

"She is, Aunt Ang," Philip murmured, placing his head in his hands, "She's the moon of my life, the prettiest girl in school, and everyone knows it!"

"And does she even know who you are?"

"Of course! I'm her best _friend_."

The eldest Schuyler sister grimaced. "Eeh, friendzoned. So what you're saying is... you're fucked," she nudged him. Philip exhaled, swinging his short legs over the bedside.

"Basically."


	2. Chapter 2

** Two Weeks To Christmas **

Aaron sat in his flat, nursing a beer. He could have made himself some eggnog, or even gone to Starbucks for a peppermint mocha, but he wasn't in the mindset to get that festive yet.

Theodosia had called him that morning. She had asked him if she could come over, in that carefully calculated tone of hers, for the wedding tapes. Aaron had quickly told her he had lost them, that they didn't turn out right so he probably threw them out. She had insisted.

"Be nice," Marcus said over the phone.

"What're you talking about? I'm always nice," Aaron protested, fiddling with a fray in a pillow.

"You're cold," Mark replied, "By nature, but extra cold around my wife." Aaron winced at the title, and bit the inside of his cheek.

"We just... haven't gotten around to properly acquainting," Aaron lied through his teeth.

"Well... try your best, A-a-ron," Mark muttered with a smile, "I'm sure you can manage being nice to a pretty girl- you've managed since college, you dog."

Aaron offered a weak laugh, and promised Mark he would welcome "his wife" when she came for the tapes. So now, there he sat, waiting for the visit... and the doorbell rang. When he opened the door, she stood there, beautiful as ever, and it actually took Aaron's breath away.

"H-Hello," he murmured, and let her in. She smiled a little.

"Hey, Aaron. Got the tapes?" _Why did she have to say his name like that?_

"I... they're... like I said, I probably got rid of 'em, and..."

"Oh? These look pretty promising," Theo said, pulling out a tape that read "Theo and Mark's Wedding." Aaron winced.

"Oh! Oh, how did you... wow, I've been looking for that..." He scratched the back of his neck, watching apprehensively as she loaded it into his TV. "Wait, Theo, don't-"

"Oh," she smiled, studying the shots Aaron had got. The camera travelled up her dress and to her face, grinning as Mark took her arm. "Oh damn, I look good! Aaron, you're a genius! I haven't been able to find a good shot of me that doesn't make me look blue or pixilated!" She got up and hugged him, and Aaron sucked in a breath, waiting for her next reaction. She sat back down in front of the screen, watching the shots unfold... and her smile slowly began to fade as they went on.

"They're all of me," she whispered. She saw another shot of her dress, then of her, waving and smiling. Marcus was barely in it at all. Theodosia turned around, a long period of silence befalling them. "You..." she swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "You told me it didn't mean anything."

"I..." Aaron tried, and shook his head, walking across the room to the front door. After a moment he took to compose himself, he turned back. "I was willing to wait for it, Theo." He exhaled through his nose, searching for words. "I guess I waited too long. You can, um... show yourself out, can't you?"

He left, zipping up his jacket. He had promised himself she would never know, but how could he have stopped that? She looked beautiful... so beautiful, and she was gorgeous, and happy, and _married_ -

Aaron punched a nearby stone wall, attracting looks from passers-by. How could he face her, or his best friend, again?

❅❅❅

"And we're on in 3...2..." The man pointed at the host, and he began talking.

"Welcome to the Daily Rochambeau, Mr. King- your new hit song, 'You'll Be Merry", is climbing up the charts at number four already! Can you tell us what it was like cranking out another hit like it's nothing?!" A microphone was held up under George, and the singer smiled sweetly at the camera.

"Oh, I didn't 'crank it out', as you put it. I took a once-great song of mine, and polluted it with preposterous, absurdly cheerful Christmas lyrics." From behind the camera, Samuel jumped up and down, waving his arms frantically at George and making the neck slicing, cease and desist motion.

"W-Well... what's the intended message of your new song?" the host asked, a little thrown off. George continued to smile his darling, menacing grin.

"The message, Henry, has been lost, just as the message of my original song of torturous revenge has been in this poor, horror of a rendition." From behind the camera, Samuel began pulling at his short hair wildly, trying to stop the singer. 

"But fans are going crazy over this song!" Henry reminded him with an optimistic smile, "Your song is the most played on Itunes!"

"I pity the peasants who have wasted precious time on this heinous massacre of a musical masterpiece." He turned right to the camera lens. "This is what selling out looks like, children."

"Huh..." the host murmured, "You know, you're actually the first to give an honest answer on here. It's a little refreshing."

"Oh, I'm nothing if not honest," George replied, raising his eyebrows, "Gold is really not your colour." Henry pursed his lips.

"Okay... since honesty seems to be a theme here- out of everyone you've slept with, best you've ever had?"

"Jonathan Groff," George said as fast as lightning, and the host raised his eyebrows.

"Really?"

"Heavens, no," George winked, "He was rubbish."

" _AND_ that's all the time we have today for our segment on holiday hits!" Henry gave the cameraman a desperate look, so they were panned off of. Samuel was backstage, banging his head against the wall and sobbing.

"What's wrong?" George asked him, rolling his eyes.

"You," Samuel snapped, "You are wrong, everything about you and what you say is wrong."

"What are you talking about, Seabury?" George huffed, crossing his arms, "I was being honest, this holiday album was not my idea-"

" _No_ , it was mine, to get your career going again! Can you blame me for-"

"For trying to-?"

"I'm just-"

"I simply wanted you to-!"

Suddenly, Samuel thrust himself forward into George for a kiss, the taller man moaning into his manager's mouth. After a second, they parted, staring at each other with wide eyes.

"S-sorry, sir. That didn't happen."

"No it didn't."

But it did... and now, they would focus only on the billboard hot 100, not their inappropriate work relationship.

❅❅❅

President Jefferson kicked his feet up on the desk in the oval office, signing some papers in his lap. The workload had begun to pile up, but it was manageable; Thomas worked swimmingly under pressure.

There was a soft knock at the door, and the Virginian barely lifted his head. "Mm?"

"May I come in, sir?"

At this, Thomas did look up, a few nerves lighting inside of him. "Enter," he replied obnoxiously, covering his own excitement with his defense mechanism of egotism, and the man who came in raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you might like some biscuits with chocolate while you worked." Thomas beamed his wide, blinding grin.

"What a doll you are. 'Preciate it."

"Anytime, sir." As Madison was pouring some coffee to accompany the biscuits, he noticed the script of the next page on Thomas' desk.

"That bill is absolutely ridiculous and drains the resources we need to better distribute. I must say, I'm relieved your administration is scrapping it," James said, nodding. Thomas gazed at him curiously.

"Why are you my caterer?"

James seemed startled by this question. "Pardon?"

"What I mean to say, is..." Thomas corrected, taking his feet off the desk and leaning forward, "How do you get off saying something like that while pouring me coffee?"

"I'm sorry sir," James frowned, looking a little confused, "I'll keep my thoughts to myself next ti-"

"No, dammit, that's not what I mean," Thomas growled, "You're too smart for your job! You strike me as brighter and more willing to put it plainly than most of my damn advisors, and you're servin' me _biscuits_."

"I love my job, sir," James shrugged, "I may indulge in political passions off the clock, but serving you makes me glad to work here." He smirked a little at this, and Thomas wondered just what he had meant by that.

"Uh huh..." the politician murmured, watching James' eyes descend. "Where are you from?" he finally asked, "I feel that if you're going to gimme sugar every day, I should at least get to know you first." He winked, and James coughed primly. 

"Well, much like yourself, I'm from Virginia. Grew up in a rich family, went to a good school, got a good education. Nothing particularly notable."

"That's respectable," Thomas nodded, fiddling with a pen. James watched the pen roll around between the President's long, slender fingers, trailing it idly up and down his thigh... he snapped his gaze back up as Thomas resumed his reply. "A fellow Virginian, though... I like that. We need more people with good, Virginian values in this place."

"I agree strongly, sir." 

Thomas hummed. "You really should be on the other side of this desk." James chuckled.  

"Like I said... I enjoy working for you."

"Fine, then," Thomas shrugged, nibbling on the corner of a biscuit, "I prefer _dark_ chocolate, honey bun. Remember that for next time, won't you?"

James' smile grew mysteriously as he placed his arm behind his back again. "Duly noted, sir."

Thomas watched Madison turn to go, the door clicking shut after him, and groaned, holding his head in his hands.

"This is bad... _I'm_ bad... shit," he muttered, "I want to fuck my caterer. Over this desk. In the White House. Which, technically, belongs to me for the next four years." He looked up at the portraits of the presidents lining the walls, narrowing his eyes. "I bet you dealt with these types of things all the time," he grumbled to the portrait of Washington, "'Course you did, you saucy general, you."

❅❅❅

"Yo, I knew we could do it!" John's voice rang out through the venue, soft seasonal jazz playing as people danced and drank. "This staff party is lit."

Alex broke out into giggles, elbowing him as John draped himself drunkenly over his boss.

"Too bad Herc couldn't come," the freckled man continued, "He's off in fancy _France,_ probably getting laid every night!" Alexander couldn't help but eye Laurens, and how he looked tonight... his boyfriend, whoever that was, was a lucky bastard. Eliza kissed Alex on the cheek, stealing his attention back. "It certainly did turn out nicely. I'm so glad my sister could babysit for us tonight..." Alex grinned, nodding.

"When was the last time we had a night like this together?"

"Probably our honeymoon," Eliza snorted, and rubbed his shoulders. "I'm going to find the punch."

"Bring me some, yeah?" Alexander asked, blowing her a kiss. Eliza caught it mid-air, and nodded with a gentle smile. He sighed... he was beyond lucky to have a woman like her, and he knew she was too good for him. Especially when...

"Evening, sir," he heard, and his heart began to beat faster. He turned slowly to find Maria, smirking at him in a glittering red dress. God, it hugged her curves so nicely, and shit, did he ever notice how big her-

"Evening!" Alexander shot back, rubbing his hands together and rocking on his heels, "Great party!"

"Well, of course it is... _you're_ hosting it," Maria smiled, sauntering a little closer to him. Alex drew in a breath, and nodded.

"Yeah... yeah, we... I... am, aren't I?"

"Listen," she whispered teasingly, setting her drink down. "I know you're a man of honour and all, but..." She looked around, and sighed. "My husband up and left, and I'm so lonely." She gave him a playful little laugh. "Can a girl get a dance from her boss for Christmas?"

Alex's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, awkward demeanor only intensifying around the seductive woman. "Oh! Y-yeah, I don't see the harm in.. um... yeah, cool beans!" He let Maria take his arm, and they went out to the dance floor. Unfortunately for Alexander, it was a slow song, so Maria rested her chin on his shoulder, his entire body going rigid. Could she feel it if he started getting hard? Because he was pretty sure he was getting there. 

"Is that your wife?" Maria asked, nodding to Eliza. Alex turned, and nodded, exhaling. 

"Yeah. Yeah, that's her."

"She's very beautiful," Maria sighed, looking down almost wistfully. Alexander felt the sudden urge to compliment her, prove to her how beautiful she really was.

"No more than you, though," Alex replied in an equally low, sultry voice, and immediately as he said it, he felt the guilt wash over him. He was just trying to be nice! Right?! He was totally hard for Eliza, _only_ Eliza, he had been imagining Eliza this whole dance! In a red dress... with chestnut hair, and round, kissable breasts...

Eliza watched her husband, dancing dangerously close to that woman... she was sexy, no doubt. Eliza never felt so self-conscious in her life... she was nothing compared to how hot that woman was. She watched her lean into her husband's neck, grazing her lips against his cheek, and her breath hitched. What was going on?

"Relax," Maria cooed into Alex's ear, "Dancing's no fun if you're all tense like this."

 _I'm tense because my goddamn wife is probably watching me grind against you,_ Alex thought desperately, but swallowed his words, letting himself relax in her arms. "Great party," he chuckled weakly, "Did I already say that?"

"Yes," Maria whispered in his ear, "Sir?"

"Yep?" Alexander responded, hands grazing dangerously close to her hips.

"Are you going to get _me_  something for Christmas?"

"I... I hadn't thought," Alex croaked, his mouth going dry. He was most certainly erect now. "What do you need?"

"I don't want something I need," Maria breathed back, lips ghosting over his ear, "I want something I _want_."

"What about you? Did... did you get anything for me?" Alex attempted a joke but fell short. Maria smiled against his cheek, leaving the faintest smear of lipstick.

"I thought I made it clear... when it comes to me, you can have anything you want."

Alexander quickly pulled away, stuttering. "I... oh, shit, is that my phone ringing?" he muttered, and stumbled back through the crowd, leaving Maria alone and helpless on the dance floor. Alexander immediately took Eliza's hand, causing the punch to spill a little.

"Alexander, what-"

"Let's get outta here," he murmured, flashing her the eyes. He was stiff in his pants, aching even, and _god_ , he couldn't get those lips out of his head. He kissed Eliza's hand. "Accompany me to the backseat of our car, before we have to be home for Philip?" Eliza began to grin, all previous suspicions fleetingly forgotten. 

"How could I say no to _that_?"

❅❅❅

Hercules' friendly landlady unlocked the door to the lakeside cabin, opening it to an empty, blissfully quiet area. Pulling his grey beanie lower on his head, Hercules smiled, the first smile he had cracked since...

"Come to me if you need anything, mon cher," the landlady smiled, "And you will be needing someone to clean and take care of you- all men do, I know these things- so I took the liberty of hiring you a maid." She stepped aside to reveal a tall, graceful-looking person, frizzy dark hair tied back in a bun and beard immaculately trimmed. Hercules couldn't keep his eyes off of them...

"This is Gilbert Lafayette... they're non-binary, so make sure to-" 

"Refer to them with gender neutral pronouns," Herc nodded, still dazed in Lafayette's presence, "Yeah, my friend Alex had a sibling-in-law that was non-binary."

The landlady smiled. "I'll leave you to it, then- will Mrs. Mulligan be joining you on this visit?" Herc's smile disappeared.

"Liz isn't coming back. And, uh... she was never Mrs. Mulligan." He looked away. "Not yet, anyway." 

Getting inside and setting his stuff down, he turned back to Laf, who was re-hanging Herc's coat properly. Herc chuckled a little, and grinned at them.

"Hey. Guess we're gonna be hanging around for a while out here alone, huh?"

"Ehh... oui, monsieur," Laf replied, and Hercules' eyes widened. 

"Oh... oh, French... okay... um... je m'appelle Hercules, ou je suis un enfant de fleur." (My name is Hercules, or I am a flower child.) For some reason, Laf found this funny, beginning to snort.

"Votre français est pire que mon jeu de cracher," ( _Your French is worse than my spit game_ ) they cackled, slapping their knee, and Herc frowned.

"I... I don't see what's so funny about me being a tailor..."

After Lafayette had finished laughing and wiping their eyes, they got right to work and began to wipe off the wooden table that faced the lake. Herc would use this as his work table, but he felt bad about Laf doing everything... even though it was their job.

"Look, I know you're my maid and all, but... maybe I could make you some coffee while you work?" Herc offered. Then he remembered Laf didn't understand what he was saying. After a few seconds, the taller of the two looked up. 

"Puis-je prendre un café crémeux avec trois sucres, pendant que je travaille?" Laf asked, wiping their forehead. (Can I have a creamy coffee with three sugars, while I work?)

A couple of minutes later, Herc placed freshly brewed coffee down in front of Laf with a wink. "You look like a black no sugar kinda person."

Laf stared down at the dark cup. "Imbécile," they deadpanned sassily, and lifted the mug to clean the ring it had left.

At the end of the day, Herc had accomplished... virtually nothing. Lafayette kept strutting by, bending over every time they wiped something or dusted a low area... how was he expected to get anything done out here when the view was this good? _Both views, that is_ , Herc thought to himself, glancing out at the wintery, gently rippling lake.

Soon, it came time to drive Laf home, and Hercules felt strangely remorseful as they got into his truck to drive Laf to the nearest bus station. The drive was long, filled with lots of awkward broken french on Hercules' part: " Voulez-vous manger mon cul?" (Would you like to eat my ass?) Lafayette had choked on that one, and Herc had frowned again. "Parce-que... uh... parce-que... because I'm not that hungry." He offered his _pear_ over to Laf, who was still busy laughing their head off. "What?! What did I say?!"

" Je vais volontiers te manger le cul, Hercules," (I will gladly eat your ass, Hercules) Laf grinned, and took a bite of the pear from his hand. Hercules swallowed, watching a little juice run down Laf's chin... fuck, this was not rebound lust, this was _not_ rebound lust- this was something that he didn't usually get after _one fucking day_ of knowing someone. He actually found himself blushing in Lafayette's sunny presence.

After Hercules stopped the car at the station, they got out of the car.

"That was fun," Hercules said, "Spending time with you."

"Je suis triste de vous laisser, mon nouveau hopeless, hilarant compagnon," (I am sad to leave you, my new hopeless, hilarious companion) Laf murmured, and kissed both side of Herc's cheeks goodbye. Hercules lifted a hand to his face, feeling the remnants of their purple lipstick. Laf kept their gaze forward, wondering why they didn't just kiss a man as attractive as Hercules on the lips.

❅❅❅

"I'm bored," Philip mumbled, collapsing on the floor. It was around 10 PM, and Eliza and Alex were still out at the staff party. Angelica looked down at the boy.

"I thought you liked Charades."

"I do," Philip sighed, "But..."

"But, you're thinking about Theodosia," Angelica nodded, "I know that look. I got it when I first saw Aunt Adrienne."

"What did you do?" Philip asked, wide eyed.

"I went up to her, asked if she wanted to hang out at the library."

"What happened?"

"She kissed me." Philip's eyes widened, and Angelica shrugged. "She's french, what can I say?"

"I don't know if Theo's gonna do that... girls are so complicated. What do girls love, Aunt Ang?"

"Chocolate, setting fire to the patriarchy, and respect."

"What's a patri-archy?" Philip asked.

"A very dumb thing, Pip. Now why don't we hook up the TV and play Singstar? Your parents are gonna be home soon, and when they come in, they're gonna put you to bed."

"Wait... Singstar..." Philip mused, bouncing up and hurling himself off the couch excitedly, "Singstar! That's it! Girls love singers... a-and rappers... and," the mini Hamilton began to talk a mile a minute, "I always hear Theo talking about all her favourite rappers!"

"Hold up, hold up- aren't you forgetting one little thing?" Angelica asked, straightening out his little purple housecoat.

"I can't rap?" Philip asked, smiling smugly. Angelica nodded, and Philip giggled. "You're wrong! I'm the best dag rapper you'll ever hear!"

He then attempted a backflip, landing on his right arm and groaning. Angelica blinked at her nephew, regretting her decision to give him ice cream.


	3. Chapter 3

  **One Week To Christmas**

Aaron couldn't stop thinking about her. He could barely talk to Marcus anymore, not over video chat, not over text, even, without feeling like a horrible person. Then, he had nowhere else to turn, he called Marcus.

"Hey, man."

"Aaron!" Mark grinned, "What's up?!"

"Nothing much."

"Spending the holidays with friends?"

Aaron looked around his flat, at the emptiness that surrounded. "Yeah... yeah, sure am, buddy. Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something..."

"Sure, fire away," Mark smiled.

"I... that is to say, we... or... me and..." Aaron started, then it all began to rush up on him what he was doing, and what he was ruining in doing so. Then he started to think of her.

Memories of that night came flashing back, of how Theo's skin felt under his fingertips, the scent of her tumbling hair as Aaron held her to him, burying himself in all that she was, listening to her moans and feeling her nails scratch his back...

Was a confession really worth sacrificing a lifelong friendship, for something he'd never have? He'd never get to see his daughter ever again if he came clean, so he quickly reconsidered.

"I... was wondering if you two were going out of town for the holidays!"

"No, mate- staying here for Theo's Christmas play! She's really become my pride and joy, y'know?"

"Yeah..." Aaron whispered, "I know."

❅❅❅

Another day, another radio show. George smiled pleasantly as the host led him in, introducing his past hits.

"Singer of hits like, "You'll Be Back," "What Comes Next," and "I Know Him," George is on fire right now after dropping his new Christmas single, "You'll Be Merry!" George, what kind of month have you had, huh?!"

George crossed his legs, leaning into the microphone. "A rather strange one, filled with bad deja-vu and holiday fuckery."

"Uh huh... Well, what are you doing for Christmas?"

"I'll probably spend it with my utter ninny of a manager, since I've got nothing better to do with my time." Samuel looked a little crestfallen at this, but hid it well. George also put himself off with that line, but _image was a thing, and having senseless feelings for your manager had no part in this._

"Even if your song hits number one?!" the host grinned, "It is in second place now, with only one week to beat your rival artist, GWash Songz! People are calling this music death match "The King vs. The General!""

"Yes, well, I've met GWash Songz," George sniffed, "And though his voice is somewhat superior to mine, I am far superior to him in every other way." Samuel nodded, giving him another thumbs up from behind the glass. George found himself smiling a little at the smaller man's childlike enthusiasm, but quickly replaced his expression with a masking scowl. "My penis is also much larger than his."

Samuel's smile began to fade, eyes widening in warning, but the host asked after this one. 

"How do you know?" 

George shrugged. "Coachella, '08. Many a sangria can go a long way on a hot summer's night."

" _SO_ , let's let the King lead us into his new hit song!" the host began to sweat, and George plugged one ear.

"Not this trash again." Samuel fainted into a chair.

_"You saaay... the price of good cheer's not a price that you're willing to pay-"_

❅❅❅

Thomas checked his reflection for the umpteenth time. He already had nerves about him, and the incessant Mariah Carrey being played around the White House was enough to drive a man crazy. _One week to Christmas... right._ The president of France was arriving any minute, and Thomas should really be standing outside the door, waiting for his guest, but he still had his bathrobe on, and jesus-

"Sir?"

"James! JamesJamesJemmyJames, I'm gonna call you that because I'm the President and I can, he's coming, the French president is coming and I'm still in my bathrobe and panties!" Madison gave him a weird look, and Thomas drew back a little. "What? They make my legs look spectacular."

"Sir, what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to be there for me because I'm really nervous," Thomas sputtered, unabashedly tossing his robe off so that he was 90% naked in the oval office.

"Wow," James breathed, "Abs-right... I-I mean, alright... umm..."

"You with me?!" Thomas shouted, buttoning up a shirt, and James scrambled to go get his suit jacket.

"Yes, yes I am."

"Good- do I look presentable?"

"You never look presentable."

"Wonderful, let's go."

They walked out into the lobby of the House, to see Louis already there, shaking the hands of all the advisors and members of Thomas' cabinet.

"You must be Louis," Thomas flashed his charming smile, "Pleasure, Thomas Jefferson."

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you monsieur," Louis smiled, and looked behind him. "Ah, and who is this sexy little flower of yours?"

"Oh..." Thomas was caught a little off guard for the second time in that lobby, as he turned to see Madison still behind him, looking quite uncomfortable under the physical scrutiny. Thomas suddenly felt protective of his caterer, and more than a little awkward for engaging in locker room talk right in front of the guy. "Oh, he's not... mine... um-" Suddenly, the president had lost most of his charm and confidence. 

"It was only an expression, ami," Louis assured lightheartedly, and patted his back. "Come- we have much to discuss before the conference tomorrow."

The two important men spent the rest of the day and into the night going over foreign policies and agreements and disagreements with the changes America was to oversee under Jefferson's administration. The day after, the conference had gone smoothly- aside from Thomas' constant rolling over on his back for the French.

"No offense, Mr. President," Adams said, "But your foreign policy is... to put it lightly, weak." Thomas smiled a little, shaking his head.

"I know y'all want me to jump into something drastic, but-"

"That _was_ your campaign promise," Adams reminded him softly, but Thomas went on. 

"-But I am not prepared to make a change just yet that may jeopardize our relationship with the great country of France," he finished, gesturing to Louis, who sat at the other head of the meeting table, smug and content. The Americans at the table shifted uncomfortably, chattering quietly amongst themselves. Jefferson was left with a bad taste in his mouth... even he hated how that sounded; he was becoming the very kind of submissive, opportunistic politicians that he had grown up hating.

That night, the two representatives sat in the fireplace room, overlooking the grounds with glasses of scotch.

"Well, it's been a great day with you, Mr. President," Thomas said, "Press conference tomorrow, and you'll be on your way. But there is one more thing that I'd like to touch on tonight, it's very close to my heart." He got up, holding up a finger, and exited the room for a moment to grab the tax cut files. On his way, he saw James carrying up some tea and candies.

"Hey!" Thomas grinned, waving, then immediately cursed himself when he was past Madison. _Hey? Really? Ugh, smooth._

Thomas whistled to himself, trying to find the manilla folder, and did eventually, sauntering back over to the room... only to crack open the door and find Louis' hand on James' ass. James looked to Thomas immediately, his cheeks a deeper colour and expression extremely uncomfortable. Thomas' lips parted a little, and he felt anger begin to coil in his gut. James' look begged him not to explode at the President, but also to get him out of this situation, fast. Thomas thought quick. 

"Jemm- uh, Mr. Madison, I need you to go find my federal files, if you would sir." 

"Right away," James nodded, and brisked past them out the door. Thomas sucked in a breath, and turned to Louis as the French President gave a low whistle.

"What a beautiful shape he's got, non? Hmmm..."

Thomas returned to him a tight smile. "Can we get back to politics, please?"

The next day, the press conference came about early. Many questions were asked about the relationship between France and America, and Louis answered most of them with, "Very suitable," and "Content." Thomas couldn't stop fidgeting through the entire thing, until one of the last questions.

"How will our partnership move forward after this meeting?" a reporter asked, and before Louis could answer again, Thomas frowned, stepping up to his mic.

"Partnership... mmm, funny word, that," he began and his advisors all began to look at each other in curiosity of what would follow this. "See, partnership infers that we've each got an equal part in it. That, I'm afraid, is not what's been going on in the room where all this happens." Taking a breath, Thomas folded all of his cue cards over behind the podium, tossing them over his shoulder and resigning himself to the fact that this is what he ran for President to do. "Back in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century, France and America joined together for a common cause... creating a nation, advocating for freedom, equality, national greatness. We both gave our all to the partnership in those days, but now... I fear our balance has shifted, ever so slightly. Our partnership with the French seems an awful lot to me, like a relationship with a bully. America will not be bullied. Not with me at the helm, ladies and gentlemen, we're going to take back this country's greatness with equality, demands for rights to everyone who deserve them, and damn if I'm gonna let any other country walk all over us." He turned to Louis. "Our partnership stands strong, sir. But it is just that- a _partner_ ship of two great nations on their way to success."

Madison looked up from where he had his head down at the back of the room, beginning to clap. Soon, the entire American cabinet began to cheer, leaving Louis speechless. Cameras flashed, recorders clicked... and Thomas Jefferson was the man of the hour.

"That was too impressive," James told him after, smiling slightly, "Did you write that down?"

"Nah, spur of the moment, that's just how I do. America's early Christmas gift from good ol' Uncle TJeffs," Thomas grinned back, and the two of them descended into a fit of delirious laughter before Thomas was bombarded by press. 

❅❅❅

Maria's words echoed in Alexander's mind for days after the Christmas party, and they finally got to him the day Eliza announced they still had to make one last run to the mall before Christmas for last minute gifts. Maybe Alex would feel a little less pressure if he just got her a gift. It wasn't a big deal... it wasn't! It was getting a co-worker a gift, it wasn't any more weird than getting Burr a gift. Although, Alex wasn't currently standing over a 24 karat gold necklace with Burr in mind... 

"How much?" he asked, running  a hand through his hair and looking around to make sure he was alone.

"Six hundred, mate," the guy told him, and looked down at the necklace with the big red stone in the middle. "Looks like the necklace I gave my wife for our wedding, only hers was solid gold, no ruby. Theodosia's a big fan of gold stuff."

"Great, I didn't come here for a run-down of your love life, pal," Alex muttered, "I'll... fuck it, I'll take it." The British guy put his hands up, and while he was packaging it, Alex jiggled his hands around. He should really start stress smoking again, because holy fuck, there was no other way to put an end to his constant state of paranoia and anxiety.

 _Maybe by_ not _buying Maria Reynolds a ruby necklace for Christmas?_

Alex shut down that logical part of his mind, and instead focused on the monitor above the shelves playing the live performance of George King's new single, You'll Be Merry. Alex started humming along- it was a catchy tune- until his gift was packaged. He paid, and whipped around- almost knocking his wife over. She smiled.

"What were you doing over here?" she asked teasingly, and Alex grinned weakly.

"Oh, y'know... pretending to be rich so I could afford one of those yankers, heh." 

Later, when they got back to the house, Eliza wrapped her arms around her husband. "You okay? You seem tense, love."

"Yeah, fine. I'll be right back, 'kay?"

"Okay," Eliza trilled, and when she was sure he had gone to the other room, she excitedly dashed back, checking his jacket pocket for what he had been shopping for in the jewellery section. She nearly squealed in delight when she found the beautiful necklace, the ruby in the middle glinting, and wondered what she had done to deserve the man she had.

"Alex?" she grinned, quickly tucking the gift away and zipping his pocket back up, "Where are you?"

She found him on the back porch, speed-smoking a quick cigarette.

"What's wrong?" she frowned, "You quit a year ago."

"Uh..." Alex breathed, wincing, "New Year's Resolution? Again?"

Eliza came over to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Relax, baby," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his middle, "It's almost Christmas. I know work's been hard, but you'll have some time off soon, and then we can all go up North to the cottage by the lake..."

"Yeah," Alexander exhaled, picturing Maria slipping the necklace on and dropping to her knees to thank him, "Yeah."

❅❅❅

Hercules hummed happily along to an ACDC song he had been listening to, as he sewed some pants he had been meaning to fix for a client. As much as he hated to admit his old life had been dull, it definitely was much nicer here in France for solitary work.

...Well, not quite solitary. Laf was fucking walking around the place in _booty shorts_ that shouldn't be legal in the winter, in an oversized hoodie that _totally_ belonged to Herc... the tailor was pretty sure Lafayette had just kept it after claiming, in french, they were cold the day before. _I mean, it didn't look likely Hercules was gonna get it back anyway, but what right did they have to look so damn good in it?!!!_

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais?" (what are you doing?) the french native asked, peeking over his shoulder, and Hercules flexed his biceps just a little in his muscle top- it was a natural reflex, nothing more- as he showed Laf his work. 

"I sew stuff for a living."

"Vous avez vu des choses? Êtes-vous un meurtrier, comme cette marionnette de ce film avec les chaînes dans la salle...?" ( _You saw things? Are you a murderer? Like that puppet from that movie with the chains in the room.._.?)

Herc watched Laf make back and forth motions with their hands as they talked, and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, that, exactly!" Laf gave Herc a weird look, backing away slowly, and Herc frowned a little, defensively. "What? It's a respectable job..."

They had fallen into a routine. Herc would spend the day working, and Laf would clean the house in all the spots they had forgotten the night before. Hercules did _not_ gaze at Laf's long, muscular legs when they weren't looking, and Laf did _not_ make little waytoosexual grunting noises every time they had to reach a hard place on the shelf.

Except when they did.

It wasn't completely Herc's fault that day, when he was watching Laf instead of paying attention, that his spools of thread fell into the lake. Really, one: he shouldn't have been sewing on the dock when it was this windy, and two: he should have been focusing- he would have sewn his fingers together if not for pain receptors. But when it did happen, Herc freaked out- and Laf took the opportunity to spring to the rescue.

"Ne vous inquiétez pas, Hercules! Je vais enregistrer votre précieuses choses à coudre." (Do not worry, Hercules! I will save your precious sewing things.) Then, they proceeded to dash down the dock (at incredulous, athletic speed), and tear off their shirt. 

"Ahh," Herc mumbled, mouth hanging slightly open at the sight. Laf stood there, brows furrowed in determination as they got into diving position. Herc watched their back muscles flex, and just about went into shock. "It's... it's fine! Really, they're... not that important..."

Laf jumped in, shivering once they were underwater. They surfaced, searching for the bag floating. "Ceux-ci doivent être importants," (these better be important) they grumbled, and Herc's eyes widened.

"Shit, they're in. They're gonna think I'm a total fucking spaz if I don't jump in too, shit..." Shooting up quickly, he hopped out of his summer shorts so that he was only in his boxers- seriously, why the fuck would he do that?- and with an aggrieved, "AHHHH!" cannonballed into the lake with much less grace than Lafayette's swan dive. "Fuck... fuck... cold..."

"Merde, c'est froid!" Laf chattered, shaking their hair around in shivered convulsions. Herc began to swim, looking around frantically under the water and accidentally sent a wave of cold water splashing into Laf's face. The french maid blinked, less than impressed as they spat the water out. Finally, Laf spotted the little blue bag, and paddled over to retrieve it.

Herc got out of the water, dragging himself to his pants. Laf held the pouch between their teeth as they swam back to the dock. Watching Laf hoist their body up onto the wood, Herc tried not to faint at the sight of those rippling muscles... he had a fuck-ton of build himself, but seeing what _Laf_ was hiding under those sweaters?? Shit. They weren't as lanky as Herc had thought, and he would certainly give anything to see what was lower...

Despite the frigid water soaking his clothes, the tailor began to feel a little hot under the collar. _Stop perving on your maid, dude,_ he told himself. But it was a little hard when Laf began to _use their damn shirt to dry off their face, little droplets of water stuck in their beard, their mascara trailing ughhh...._

"Blankets," he whispered, and tore his eyes off of Laf long enough to run back to the cottage. A few minutes later, when they were both safely wrapped in fluffy throws, Herc attempted to speak.

"Sorry about that... I guess if I had been sewing inside, this never would have happened." Herc must have looked extremely apologetic, since Laf caught onto the sentiment somewhat.

"Je ne me plains pas - Je dois te voir dans tes sous-vêtements." (I am not complaining- I got to see you in your underwear.)

"Sorry about the whole underwear thing," Herc laughed nervously, "I... hate pants... unless I'm making them." _Shit, that was a weird thing to say..._

"J'aime des pantalons," (I love pants) Laf smiled, "Surtout ceux que vous portez qui étreindre votre magnifique cul, mmm..." (Especially the ones you wear that hug your magnificent ass, mmm...) He made a little squeezing motion, and Herc raised an eyebrow at the chattering mound of blankets across from him.

Driving home that evening felt different. Laf engaged a little more in conversation, even though the language barrier was still very much present... they decided to try a few words out for conversation as they painted their toenails on the dash. 

"What... are you... doing... for Noel?" Laf asked, struggling over their words and making a lot of adorable hand gestures with the polish brush. "Ou, Chris Mass, I... should... say."

Herc beamed at the attempt. "You learned a little English!" _For me? Jesus, why didn't you just use this English earlier?_ In response, he made an effort to talk slowly so Laf may be able to understand this time. "Visiting my parents." Laf still looked a little confused, so Herc searched for a different way of saying it. "My... mom and dad? Mere and pere?"

"Ah, ah!" Laf exclaimed, eyes widening, "Family visit, yes?"

"Yeah!" Herc smirked, turning left down the ramp to the station, "Hope my brother's not there, though. He's a cheating dickbag."

"Could you... repeat for me?"

"Nah, nothin' important," Herc sighed, a flashed Laf a sad smile. They got out, and Laf gathered their bags, effortlessly lifting them over their shoulders. They still had Herc's hoodie on, but shit, it looked so good on Laf's athletic frame, he didn't have the heart to ask for it back.

"So... I guess I won't see you again until after Christmas," Herc mumbled, kicking at the ground. The thought pained him, and wished he could just reach out, hug his precious Lafayette and never let go.

"I... guess... not seeing you until later Chris Mass, yes," Laf nodded. Fuck, they were so cute... it was hurting Herc's heart to see how much they were trying to communicate with him. He continued to nod, searching for something to part with.

"Well, um... you'd better get going... the station'll be in anarchy this close to the holidays."

"'Onarchy," Laf agreed with a laugh. 

" _Anarchy_ ," Herc helped them out, and Laf met his eyes.

"Anarchy," they whispered softly, "'S what I says..." The two spent a long period of time just staring at each other, until Herc let out a wistful sigh.

"I wish I never had to let you go," he muttered, hoping Laf couldn't understand that.

"Je t'aime plus que Noël, mon cher Hercules." (I love you more than Christmas, my dear Hercules.)

"Bye, Laf," Herc whispered, a little choked up.

"Je suis à vous," (I am yours) Laf replied, and craned their neck to kiss Herc on the cheek. Hercules, shocked speechless again, watched them turn and leave, cap pulled tightly down over their head to contain their unruly hair. His heart beat faster, and he felt like collapsing after that display of affection, however small.

This Christmas would be the worst if Herc had to spend it alone and without a certain french housekeeper.

Lafayette turned back to look at their companion as he walked back to his car... it would be a sad Christmas without him, indeed.

❅❅❅

Philip set the beat, and hopped around in his room. He had adjusted his hat sideways, so that his puffy hair sprouted out of the sides. He had to show Aunt Ang what he had come up with so far- he was about halfway through creating a mixtape for Theodosia, as per his dad's suggestion.

"Mixtapes were always a way to show someone you really liked that you were into them," Alex had counselled Philip seriously, "A personal gift."

Theo was bound to _love_ this.

Philip had poured his little nine-year-old heart and soul out into this collection of recordings, and he was beyond excited to give them to Theo.

After a listen, Angelica couldn't stop grinning. "This is a masterpiece, little man."

"It is?!"

"I stand corrected, you are a little prodigy when it comes to rapping."

"Think Theo's gonna go for it?!"

"I don't see how she couldn't."

It's not like Eliza or Alexander or, for that matter, Angelica, needed any actual sleep. 24/7, it was now nothing but a "sick beat" from Philip's room, keeping the entire house up; nothing but the sickest fire for his Theodosia.


	4. Chapter 4

** Christmas Eve  **

Aaron knew it was inappropriate. Just like getting Theodosia pregnant with Theo Jr. in the first place was. But this was the only way to safely get it off his chest...

Theo heard the doorbell ring.

"Who's fucking bothering us on Christmas Eve?" Mark complained, and Theodosia slapped his chest playfully.

"Pause the movie... I'll be right back. I think Theo wants more popcorn, maybe you should make some more!"

"Dad, can I have more eggnog too?" Theo grinned, flipping her hair out of her face, and Mark reluctantly nodded.

"Sure thing, sweet pea."

Theodosia jogged down the stairs of their walk up, and opened the door. "Aaron?" she asked, looking around. He was alone in the alley, holding a stack of signs. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at a party or something tonight?" Aaron didn't respond, so she opened the door a little wider. "Well, come in-"

Aaron held a finger to his lips, and held up the first sign.

_Say it's a church group._

"Who the bloody hell's at the door?!" Mark shouted down in good nature, "We've got to hurry if we want to finish this movie before we have to get Theo to the school holiday show!"

"Um... it's a church group," Theodosia called back hesitantly.

"Oh... well, it's Christmas I suppose, so... go on, carry on then."

Aaron held up another sign.

_I know I shouldn't be here._

Theodosia quirked a perfect eyebrow as he switched signs, and Aaron had to look down at the sign to avoid tearing up while looking at her.

_And I know I was too late before, but I couldn't wait for it any longer for this._

Switch.

_I love you, Theodosia._

Switch, a soft gasp from Theodosia.

_I love our beautiful daughter. She takes my breath away every time I think about her... the same goes for you._

Theodosia covered her mouth, and she held the doorknob for support.

_Forget everything I just said... I'm just a friend. Truly._

"Aaron..." she whispered, and Aaron offered a small smile, switching for the last sign.

_Some things just aren't meant to work out that way._

Switch.

_Merry Christmas, love._

Theodosia felt tears spring to her eyes. "I've been thinking about our night," she told him quietly, "There are so many unanswered questions... Why, why didn't you _say_ something?!"

"I thought that fate would bring me to you if I waited for it. Fate had different plans," Aaron smiled, kissing her hand. "Night, Theo. I'll see you at the next bar night with Mark, where we add this to the "pretend this never happened" list."

Theodosia watched Aaron turn and give a little wave, but before he could cross the street, she murmured, "Wait," rushing out to him. "Can we add this to the list too?" she asked, and slotted her lips against his in a sweet, slow kiss. Aaron cupped her cheeks, and Theodosia wrapped her arms around him. After a few moments, they pulled away, and Aaron smiled, breathing out. Theodosia smiled back.

"I'll tape her performance tonight for you."

Aaron nodded to her in thanks. "'Preciate it." She backtracked to her door.

"Night, Aaron," Theodosia whispered, and Aaron walked away, tossing the signs in a nearby recycling bin.

"Let her go," he breathed, and headed back home to watch reruns of Miracle On 34th Street.

❅❅❅

George was surrounded by a party chock full of glamorous celebrities, much like himself, and everyone was waiting for _the_ call. Samuel held the phone, anticipation nearly killing him... then it rang.

"Silence! A message from the studio!" Samuel shrieked, and put the call on speakerphone.

"George! You did it- your fans came through, and the song made number one!"

"Hm... I did say that they'd be back," George chuckled, and the whole room erupted into cheers. The pop star eventually held up a finger as someone passed a phone to him. "Hello? Lin-Manuel Miranda! Aha! You're inviting me to your Christmas bash, you say?" Samuel watched from the crowd, almost disappointed at the invitation. Of course he was happy for George's success- he had only spent his entire career ensuring it. But the way George's eyes lit up at the invitation almost hurt him... the last thing the star would want to do is celebrate Christmas with his loser for a manager.

"Oh darling, you know me- always up for a sleepless night."

So, Samuel set up at home, putting on old reruns of Golden Girls and scooping himself a bowl of candy cane ice cream. About an hour into it, he began to imagine what George was doing now... he was probably sipping at some peppermint tea or at least a light spritzer... he was never a heavy drinker at parties. Cocaine, on the other hand, had been quite the fun few months back in '07... that was back around the release of "What Comes Next," when George's songs were in high demand. Samuel snorted softly at the memory, thinking back to George leaning on him, eyes as wide and wild as he was high. The memory turned a little sour when George almost tweeted a nude selfie of himself while in a rocketed stupor, so Samuel directed his thoughts back to the present. Every single god damn step of the way, there were little things that convinced him even more each day how hard he had fallen for George King... but then, who hadn't?

Samuel scoffed, wondering if he shouldn't just buy that door poster of George, half naked in a crown and a Dalmatian fur with a sceptre blocking his private parts... every other horny fan in love with him had it, it was tastefully reminiscent of 90s era Brittany Spears. Samuel groaned... he remembered that photo shoot too, how sultry George looked...

Pressing pause on Golden Girls, Samuel rubbed his temples, debating whether or not he should just resign himself to sleep so the morning would come faster, and Christmas would be over sooner. Then came the knock. Samuel frowned, setting his bowl of melted ice cream aside. He had paid the landlord... he didn't really have any friends...

"Who is it?" he trilled curiously, ever polite, and the door opened.

"Why do you never lock your door, Seabury?" George asked, "I could have been a psychotic stalker!"

"You _are_ a psychotic stalker, have you listened to your own music?" Samuel muttered back, and George smiled.

"Touché."

Samuel got up, his frown still very much present. "Why are you here? And not... partying with Lin-Maneyule Meeranda?"

"Ooh, he would hate you for butchering his name so poorly," George deadpanned, then shook his head. "Seabury, I... I don't... know, exactly, why I'm here."

"Uh huh," Samuel nodded, sighing, "Splendid, I assume you're high, sir?"

" _No I am not high_ ," George snapped curtly, then sniffed, straightening his back. "There I was, celebrating the festivities with the cast of that Broadway show, Franklin. I had been receiving advances to make out with Daveed Diggs- mind, he is an extremely attractive specimen-"

Samuel shrugged, unable to disagree there.

"-And..." George bit his fist, "And good lord, Samuel, I had an epiphany."

"An epiphany, sir?"

"A very shocking one," George murmured, rubbing his bottom lip idly, "You see... amidst all the celebrity hubbub and holiday spirit, I realized... I don't want to make out with Daveed Diggs, Samuel!"

"You don't, sir?" Samuel asked, scratching his head.

"I don't! I want to make out with you!" With that, the pop star rushed forward, seizing the thinner man in an embrace and a deep, heart-stopping kiss. After a moment, George groaned a little, leading his manager back into the couch, where he pinned Samuel down against his sickeningly festive snowman cushions.

"You are high, aren't you?" Samuel mumbled out, and George smirked down at him.

"Perhaps on the very cheer I swore I was immune to. I would very much like to send you a bundled box of chocolates and a jolly Christmas card to remind you of my love, my dear Seabury. Would you allow me?"

Unable to form a properly witty response, Samuel just dragged George down for another kiss, mentally checking off the last and only item on his Christmas list.

❅❅❅

Everyone had gone home for the holidays, and Thomas was left without anyone to bug, bother, or flirt with. He supposed he could call up some ex-girlfriends, ex-boyfriends; anyone would take him back now that he was president... but truthfully, there was only one man on Jefferson's mind this Christmas Eve.

"Sally?" he asked his secretary, beckoning her in. The stylish young woman raised her eyebrows at him.

"Sir?"

"Be a lamb darling, won't you, and find an address for me?" Sally rolled her eyes, but Thomas frowned at her, so she did it. "And... and when you're done, go home for god's sake... it's Christmas." 

Just like that, the President of the United States, the single most powerful and most important man in America, was off being driven through a row of very expensive looking two-floor apartments on Christmas Eve. Getting out, he repeated the same mantra over and over in his head:

 _Do it for the cute Virginian, do it for the cute Virginian, do it for the cute Virginian. He may even become your husband one day! Woah, Thomas... way ahead of yourself, there... probably way ahead of him too. Then again, the thought might have crossed his mind-_ With a shaky breath, he stilled his thoughts and began to hum Jingle Bells. James may still be around... if he hadn't left for the concert he had mentioned before.

Thomas knocked on the first door, as Sally had only been able to pinpoint the street, not the exact address. A young-ish guy in a fedora opened the door.

"Hey... is James here?" Thomas asked, hopping from foot to foot.

"Sure, I'm James."

"A Mr. James _Madison_ , is he there?"

"Wait... you the fuckin' President?!" James Reynolds asked, a bottle of whiskey sloshing in his hand. 

Thomas cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm the fucking president. Good night to you, sir."

Moving on to the next walk-up, he rapped on it loudly. The door swung open to reveal three little children.

"Are you here to sing Christmas carols for us?" one asked, and Thomas backed away slowly.

"Uhhh, I..."

"Please, Mr. President! Please!" they all cooed, and Thomas heaved a sigh. He supposed it was his civic duty to interact with citizens once and a while... even tiny ones, his least favourite kind.

"Yeah, okay. Shit, um..." he covered his mouth after swearing, then began to sing, very off-key, "Feliz Navidad! Feliz Navidaaad!" His voice cracked twice, and he made a face as he continued. Suddenly, behind him, his bodyguard cut in, singing beautifully. Thomas' eyes widened, and the kids began to dance.

Onto the next apartment.

"Hello, is James there?" Thomas asked, running a weary hand through his curls. The man who stood there was half naked, with another guy hanging over his back... was that- _George King, the famous pop star_?

"Are you-"

"Are you-" they both began at the same time, then Samuel cut in.

"Sir, if you're talking about James Madison, he's my neighbour. I hear him coughing all the time, so I know he hasn't moved out yet."

Thomas stifled a laugh. That's his Jemmy. The door was promptly closed followed by the sounds of high pitched squeals and giggling, and a noise that sounded an awful lot like spanking. The tall man promptly stepped over to the next place, and knocked.

"Thomas?" James asked, looking legitimately floored when the door opened. He was dressed in a dark green onesie, with little white Christmas trees on it.

"Nice onesie."

James visibly flinched. "I... didn't think anybody was going to see me tonight." He looked around for a jacket. "Sorry, sir-"

"No no, it's cute! I have one just like it, it's purple!" Thomas immediately wished he hadn't admitted that.

"Ah," James nodded.

"Anyway, I'm glad I caught you, but... weren't you invited to your friend's daughter's pageant, you told me?"

"Yes, but..." James shifted, "I'm not sure I want to-"

"James!"

"I don't feel that well..."

"Wait, get your clothes on _vite vite_ , and I'll drive you!" Thomas grinned, "Don't let kids down on Christmas, Jemmy, it's a sin."

"Mr. President-"

"I will not wait past five minutes, I'm a very busy, important man."

" _Thomas_ -"

"Hush, sugar. Hurry up, I want to talk to you in the car." Thomas felt his stomach fluttering as the door shut, and he watched James' silhouette in the upstairs window getting dressed. Look away... look away... He didn't look away.

Finally, James came back down in a smart casual outfit, and Thomas nodded, taking his arm and leading him to the limo. "How far away is this place?"

"R-right around the corner."

On their way to the school, they spent a long time almost looking at each other, exchanging awkward glances here and there.

"James, I..."

"Thomas, I- eh, Mr. President, that is..."

"Dammit James, don't call me that."

"Yes, sir."

"That either... unless it's in bed." Thomas grimaced. "Is that considered harassment if you still work for me?"

"Most likely."

"Yeah, great."

Suddenly they pulled up, and Thomas marvelled. "It really was right around the corner!" James bit his lip.

"Since we're here, and I'm too socially anxious to go in by myself... come in and see the show with me?"

The president threw his hands up. "Ohhh, no. Uh-uh. I don't want to draw the attention away from the kids, everyone'll think I'm a massive douche!"

"Everyone knows you're a massive douche, Thomas, but that's beside the point. I'll sneak you in," James assured, "I went here after moving from Virginia, I know my way around." Thomas hesitated, then agreed... not exactly how he saw tonight going, but he wasn't complaining.  

❅❅❅

Eliza sat back down with everyone around the tree, grinning from ear to ear. They had almost finished unwrapping the gifts... she was determined to save the best for last. Philip was sitting in his costume for the nativity play, a huge hot chocolate mustache lining his upper lip. Angelica was also there, Alex sitting with the children on the floor.

"Okay, I get to pick the next one," Eliza grinned, "I choose... this one!" She reached around to the back of the tree and grabbed the box she knew held that beautiful necklace. The card read: " _Sorry I've been so tense lately. Punish me later? ;) -Naughty Alexander_ " Eliza giggled, and clutched it close to her. "Should I just rip it?"

Alexander grinned back at her, his hair up in a loose bun. "Totally, just tear right into it. I'm actually pretty excited about this one."

Eliza quickly opened it, imagining what dresses she would wear the piece of jewellery with... but as the lid of the box fell off, Eliza's heart shattered into a million pieces. There was no necklace in the box... it was, instead, a CD.

"I know you like that dude," Alex smiled, rubbing his wife's hand as he held their youngest son in one arm, "I wanted to make it personal this year, instead of yet another scarf."

"Yeah," Eliza tried her best to smile as wide as she could, but she could already feel the tears springing to her eyes. "Well, wow... th-thank you so much, honey." She blinked a couple of times. "I... I just have to get something from the bedroom... you... can you all make sure you're ready to go? We need to get you in for the performance." Quickly rushing to the bedroom, Eliza shut the door quietly, and slid down to the floor. In a second, the tears were streaming down her cheeks... so there _had_ been something going on between Alexander and that woman. Who else would that necklace have been for? Eliza wasn't a jealous person by nature, so she didn't want to suspect anything... she always wanted to see the best in her husband.

He had let her down.

Crying into her sleeve and letting out soft, choked sobs, Eliza got all her tears out. Then she stood back up, brushed herself off, and dried her eyes. Checking in the mirror, she made sure she was presentable... and, just as women do, she persevered.

"Ready to go?!" she beamed, opening her arms as she went back out into the living room. Everyone was getting there outdoor wear on. Angelica frowned at her, and came over.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah!" Eliza smiled, "Why do you ask?" Angelica narrowed her eyes.

"I know you like I know my own mind. I can tell when something's got you down."

"It's Christmas Eve, Angelica," Eliza sniffed, "What's there to be down about?" She gazed over at Alex, who was busy dressing little Angie. Her sorrow turned to betrayal, and anger. "Come on. We'll be late."

In her room across town, Maria admired her reflection in the mirror, the gold of the pretty necklace glinting.

"It's beautiful," she murmured to herself, and James came stumbling into the room.

"Who the fuck's that from?"

"A friend."

"You sure? You sure you haven't been whoring yourself out for shit like that, like the little slut you are?"

"Yes," Maria replied softly, flinching. 

"Yeah... whatever. I don't give a fuck either way. You're mine... you'll always come running back to me at the end of the day, no matter who you screw." He wiped his nose. "I'm goin' to bed... don't keep me up with your fuckin' Christmas music all night." Maria kept her eyes trained on the necklace, closing her eyes as if to wish her husband away again and wish Alexander's gentle hands back on her.

Meanwhile, Alexander looked up from the scarf he was wrapping around his daughter, wondering why Eliza suddenly seemed so despondent. Maybe the performance would relax her a little.

❅❅❅

Hercules lifted all the gifts he was about to bring into the house, the haul amounting to about twelve presents in total for all his little rugrat cousins. He mumbled a few French words out loud, practicing for... he didn't exactly know. Over the past week, Herc had picked up a couple of dictionaries and travelled to a few language classes in Paris. He now knew how to properly say, "I am not a pedophile, I love fried tomatoes!" among other useful things.

He was currently on his way to the airport, going home to see his family. His mother was having her annual Christmas party at Herc's family home back in America, and he was cutting it close for making it back in time, but he could do it if the weather stayed at it was. He thought of his family, all his little cousins... and his brother. Would Hugh be there? Then Hercules began picturing Lafayette's big brown eyes framed with long eyelashes, their soft smirk, how their nose scrunches up every time they attempt to speak English. He realized all too fast that he needed to get the bus station, not the airport.

"Uh, je suis desolée!" he said to the driver, praying his memory served him well with his phrasing, "à la station de bus?!" They raced there, and Herc paid, jumping out to run.

"Monsieur! Monsieur, vous avez oublié vos cadeaux!" (You forgot your gifts!)

By the time he got to the part of town he needed to be in, the only thing keeping Herc awake was determination to find the address he had written in his phone- before leaving his little cottage, he had contacted his very sleepy-sounding landlady to inquire after Lafayette's residence. After many questions, she finally told him that Laf lived with their parents and brother in a small village just outside of Paris called Chatre. He raced there immediately, riding the bus with nothing but his own thoughts.

_This is way too forward._

_I've only known Lafayette for a few weeks._

_But they make me feel so..._

_They'll probably say no._

_This is crazy, and stupid, and_ right _._

Herc finally came to his destination, knocking on the door of the quaint little place. If this was the wrong time or the wrong path for him, he knew fate would find a way to tell him.

"Bonjour," he read confidently from the mini dictionary in his hands, "Je veux épouser le progéniture." (I wish to marry the child.) The man standing at the door frowned.

"Les enfant? Jesus? Eh bien, c'est une bonne journée pour ... c'est son anniversaire!" (The child? Jesus? Well, it's a good day to... it's his birthday!)

"P-pardon?" Herc skimmed back through his book for connecting words, and realized what he had done wrong. Fuck, he wasn't even religious. "Oh... no, not _the_ child... non, je veux épouser _votre_ progéniture."

"Ah, ah ah ah," the man nodded quickly, turning back and beckoning someone to the door. Herc puffed out his chest, taking a deep breath and holding it... until he saw who showed up.

"Michel, cet homme veut vous épouser." (Michel, this man wants to marry you.)

"W-wait," Herc put his hands up, "Uh... votre autre... Lafayette?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Lafayette? Hm... on ne peut les dompter, monsieur, je ne pensais pas que c'était possible..." (They can't be tamed, sir, I did not think it was possible...)

Hercules smiled. "Ils n'ont pas encore apprivoisé. J'aime ça, hein ... un peu rebelle." (They still not tamed. I like that way, eh... a little rebellious.)

The man raised his eyebrows. "Eh bien, si c'est ce qui flotte votre bateau. Suivez-moi." (Okay, whatever floats your boat. Follow me.)

Herc grinned, nodding, and followed the two out the door as Laf's younger brother sized him up.

"Merde..." Michel whispered to his father, "J'aimerais qu'il _soit_ ici pour moi!" (Shit... I wish he _was_ here for me!) 

"Shhhh, Michel." Along the way, Michel told passing people on the street: "Venez, suivez-nous... Le père va vendre Lafayette à cet Américain!" (Come, follow us... father's going to sell Lafayette to this American!)

"Monsieur..." Laf's dad began.

"Mulligan."

"Monsieur Mulligan, Lafayette travaille au restaurant ce soir. J'espère que vous êtes ici pour une bonne raison." (Mr. Mulligan, Lafayette works at the restaurant tonight. I hope you are here for a good reason.)

Herc nodded assuredly, trying to keep up through the narrow cobblestone alleys. "Je suis ici pour la raison très génial, croyez-moi." (I am here for very awesome reason, trust me.) By now, Michel was telling every curious passerby to: "Suivez-nous - cet Américain est venu tuer Lafayette!" (Follow us- this American's come to kill Lafayette!)

With a large crowd following them to see this crazy development, they made it to the restaurant Laf apparently worked nights in after their day job with Herc. Laf's dad shouted for them.

"Laf! Il ya un grand homme attirant ici pour vous voir! Mieux vaut attention, il a des muscles plus jolis que ta mère!" (There is a large attractive man here to see you! Better pay attention, he has muscles prettier than your mother!)

Hercules looked up to where the tall, elegant love of his damn life shifted their attention from the couple they were waiting on down to the doorway. Their hair was pulled back still, wearing a tight black long-sleeve dress and a white apron. Herc noticed the small, diamond earrings they were wearing, and almost cried.

"Hercules?" Laf breathed, dropping their notepad and pen into the soup on the table. They quickly apologized frantically, but the couple were nice about it, intent on listening to this transpire.

"Laf," Herc grinned, then remembered what he was there for. "Uh, uh... Lafayette. Beau, beau Lafayette. La première fois que je vous ai vu, vous alliez nettoyer ma maison. La première fois que je savais que je voulais passer ma vie avec vous, c'est quand vous m'avez dit que je coudais le pantalon que je travaillais ensemble parce que je ne pouvais pas arrêter de vous fixer. Bien sûr, je ne savais pas ce que vous disiez à l'époque, et ces pantalons ne se sont jamais remis." (The first time I sees you, you were going to be clean my home. The first time I knew that I wanted to spend life with you was during you told me I was sewing the pants I was working on together, because I couldn't stop staring at you. Of course, I didn't knowledge what you were saying at the time, and those pants never recovered.) Laf chuckled, bringing their fingers up to their lips, and Herc went on.

"Je sais que c'est stupide, mais ... Je veux passer ma vie avec toi, Laf. Voulez-vous me marier pour toujours?" (I know it's stupid... but will you marriage me forever?)

The entire restaurant was dead silent, looking up to Laf for an answer. The french server blinked a couple of times, tears threatening to spill.

"Yes... I choose yes, m-my lovely sex appeal Hercules."

Herc laughed, tears gathering in his eyes as well. Laf then made a running leap off the second floor and into his arms. Thank the holidays that Herc didn't drop them... he'd rather not go through another breakup so soon.

"You learned English for me?" Herc asked, biting his lip.

"I would fight thousand wars for you, clean many many toilets for you... anything," Laf beamed up at Hercules, "Merry Noel, mon cher." They kissed, and the restaurant cheered the night into a full-blown celebration for the two.

Christmas didn't suck after all, Herc supposed, twirling his new partner around.

❅❅❅

The moon began to peek out from behind the clouds as the children got ready to begin the performance. In the audience sat Alexander, Eliza, Angelica, Theodosia and Marcus.

"Theo!" Philip ran over to Theo, gift-wrapped mixtape in hand, but she didn't hear him as the music for the show began to start. The little Hamilton was forced to wait backstage as the first act went up. Meanwhile, James sneaked Thomas through the back door of the school, which was propped open with a brick for parents to get in.

"This way," he whispered, glancing around conspiratorially and slinking down the hallway.

"Mmm, this whole James Bond act has got me all tingly-"

"Shut up."

"Hey... I could have you assassinated for saying that," Thomas frowned.

"I said, _shut up_."

"Okay."

They made it backstage, and suddenly, they ran into a couple with a small child waddling in his costume-

"Hamilton," Thomas glared.

"Jefferson," Alex glared back, fists tightening.

"Mr. President?" Eliza asked, confused.

"Thomas," James warned.

"James!" Alex raised his eyebrows.

"James?" Thomas frowned. 

"Philip!" Philip added his own name excitedly, before his parents quickly ushered him past and into the wings so they could go sit down. Thomas turned to his caterer.

"Whaaaat was that?"

"Alexander Hamilton."

"I know his damn name, I knew the assmunch in high school."

"Well, he's an old colleague of mine. I used to work for him before I worked for you."

"Did you fuck him?"

_"What?!"_

"Did you fuck Alexander Hamilton?"

"No!!"

"Did you let him fuck _you_?"

"Thomas," James blushed, "That's extremely rude."

"Don't lie James," Thomas narrowed his eyes, leaning in, "I _smell_ fear."

"Shhh, Thomas, they're starting."

Philip stood backstage, staring wide-eyed out at the performance. There were so many people...

"I don't want a lot for Christmas," Theodosia began to sing, and Philip may as well have been hit by Cupid's arrow. He was helpless for this girl, and the only thing he wanted was for his best friend to notice him in a different light. Theodosia sang the festive song like an angel, and by the end, Philip had messed up his hair from dancing too hard. At the end, when it was time for the next act, Philip ran onto the stage to hug her. Theo grinned as he pulled her aside.

"Did I do okay, Pip?!"

"You were dope, Theo," Philip grinned.

"Thanks," she giggled, and Philip thrust his hand out with the mixtape in it.

"This is for you. It's stupid and you'll probably hate it, but-"

"A gift for me?" she asked, and Philip nodded proudly.

"But don't open it until you're home and you can listen to my fire beats."

"Well... I made you this card," she murmured bashfully, and thrust it into his hands. Philip nearly fell over. Just then, the next number of Jingle Bell Rock began, and they got into position.

"Look at our son," Alexander whispered proudly to Eliza, taking her hand. She stilled, keeping her gaze fully focused on Philip. On stage, Philip began his beatbox solo, and Angelica whistled.

"That is _my_ nephew right there!" she called, raising both her arms in respect, and Philip bounced happily onstage at the praise.

"Nobody'll find us back here," James hissed.

"It seems kind of loud and busy, do you think-" Thomas whispered.

"No, I told you, I know this place-"

"Jemmy, I can hear the crowd-"

"We're backstage, trust me-"

"Fine... if you say so... let's get to sucking face, then-"

"Thomas, what're you- mmmm..."

"THANK YOU! GOODNIGHT AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!" the principal called, and the back curtain parted to reveal...

"Mmmph, mmm-"

"MmmMMmmm, Thmmsssmmmm..." Noticing the silence, both men pulled out of their kiss, only to find the entire school audience was staring at them.

"Oh," James squeaked.

"My god," Thomas droned.

"What... do... we... do... Thomas?" James gritted out.

"Smile and wave, James... smile and wave," Thomas whispered, and grinned his charming smile, waving out at the crowd. They got a few cheers, and soon, the place was applauding again, letting the two dash off into the wings.

"Jesus," Alex muttered from the audience, "I can almost see the headline for that one."

Everyone began to file out, the Christmas spirit alive and thriving among families. Alexander would have felt the same way... if he didn't have an inkling something was wrong with his wife.

"'Liza? Babe, you okay?" he asked, squeezing her hand. Angelica informed them she was off to find Philip and bring him back so he didn't get lost in the sea of children. Eliza took in a breath, and pulled him aside to the school lobby by the fountains.

"Alexander," she murmured, and Alex frowned. She rarely ever said his full name like that.

"Yeah...?"

Eliza took another deep breath, and looked at the ceiling. "What... what would you do..." Alex leaned in a little, expectantly. "What would you do if you found a necklace, and assumed it was for you, but it turned out it really... wasn't?"

Alexander's face changed. He went pale, his eyes widening, and his lips parted frantically. "Eliza, baby, wait-"

"What if..." she continued, tearing up, "You knew some young, sexy woman was wearing it tonight instead of you?"

"Please, just listen-"

"Would you stay? To find out if it was just a necklace? Or... or a necklace and sex?" Her breath caught. "Or maybe, the worst of all, a necklace and love?"

Alexander was tearing up too, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He looked destroyed, and it killed Eliza to watch, but it also infuriated her. What right did _he_ have to be crying?

"I'm so... so sorry," he finally choked out shakily, looking down. She could see the shame and guilt and hurt on his face, but it didn't ease her pain any more to see him profess his remorse. She just felt... numbed by it.

"Red really was her colour, Alex. I'll give you that." Alex let out a little sob, and just then, Philip came bounding out, hand in hand with Angelica.

"Ma! Pops! What'd you think, huh?!" he shouted, jumping up and down.

"Oh, Philip!" Eliza beamed, picking him up and squeezing him, "You were amazing, I was just star struck watching you up there!"

"Really?!"

"Yes, yes yes, you tore it up, _fam_!" She inhaled deeply, waving the tears away as Philip skipped over to Alex.

"Pops! What'd you think?!"

"You... you simply outshone the star on the top of our tree, Philip," Alexander breathed, hugging him tightly, and Angelica looked at her sister for an explanation. Eliza just watched her husband hug her son, and wondered what the New Year would bring for this relationship.

Thomas and James scurried back into the presidential limo, and drove back to the White House... there were too many empty rooms in the place, and not enough Christmas Eve to use them all. Philip opened up his card from Theo in the car ride home, and his little heart nearly stopped at the six words written inside with a little drawing of a Christmas angel...

_All I want for Christmas is you._

_-Yourz, Theo_

Back at home, Theodosia listened to the mixtape, her mom coming in and sitting on her bed.

"Who's this from?" she asked, brushing her fingers through Theo's hair.

"The love of my life, mommy," she sighed, flopping back on her bed next to her mom.  

Theodosia smiled wistfully, staring out the window. "Merry Christmas, baby. Go to sleep, so Santa can come."

"Can Santa bring me a person for Christmas, mommy?"

"I severely doubt it."

"Oh," Theo whispered, thinking of Philip, "I'll just have to believe he liked my card, then."

Theodosia kissed her forehead, and turned off the light.

"Ready for bed?" Marcus asked her, and Theodosia nodded.

"Yeah."

** One Year Later **

The arrivals gate at the airport was packed on Christmas day... and everyone was overjoyed to see each other.

"Hey! How was Disney World?!" Aaron laughed, and Theo grinned up at him.

"The best, Uncle Aaron, the best! Goofy said hi to me, and I got a picture with Elsa!"

"Amazing," Aaron smiled, hugging her, and he shook hands with Marcus.

"Hey- nice to see you're warming up to her," Mark mumbled in his ear. Aaron chuckled.

"I guess I finally realized what I was missing. So, you tired out from that trip?"

"Fucking exhausted," Marcus whispered with an eye roll, "If I hear It's A Small World one more time- ah, Theodosia, there you are! Babe, Aaron came to see us in!"

"Hey," she grinned, a pair of green and red mickey ears still on her head, "I got you a gift, Aaron!"

He grinned, hugging her. "You shouldn't have, Theo."

"Yeah," she laughed, "I kinda had to." It was a little Beauty and the Beast pocket watch, and Aaron's eyes widened.

"I... love it. Thank you so much."

"You always said how Belle was the hottest princess, so," Theodosia grinned, shrugging. Marcus did a double take.

"Wait, didn't you guys meet through me?"

Theo kissed him on the cheek. "Let's get the car and go home, babe, hm?"

"Yeah. Merry Christmas, A-a-ron!"

"Yeah, same to you," Burr waved, staring down at the watch. "Merry Christmas."

Over at the other end of departures, George came out with four very affectionate guys draping themselves over him. Samuel raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms, and George took off his crown-shaped sunglasses. "Samuel, meet our new staff for the mansion! This is Jon, the poolboy, Andrew, the butler, Rory, the gardner, and Taran, the cook!" Samuel dropped his stern gaze and clapped excitedly.

"Oh yay, George, _yay_!"

"Yay indeed, ooh!" 

From the middle of the arrivals and accompanied by ten bodyguards, Thomas came down the ramp, dragging a rollable, hot pink suitcase with him. "So what'd I miss, y'all?" he smirked at the flashing cameras, then spotted his fiancé.

"Jemmy!!" he screeched, and pounced into the arms of the small, turtleneck wearing man that was standing at the front of the crowd with a sign that said, _"Welcome home, Mr. President!"_ He nearly fell over, supporting Thomas in his arms.

"T-Thomas!" he choked out, his knees wobbling, "G-Good to see you, darling!"

"Oh hooo, you have no idea what I'm gonna do to you later, sugar pie," he growled a little too loudly, "I've been off in Paris for _way_ too long, and I am dying for some hot sex, rawr." An old woman stared at them from a few paces away, and Thomas cleared his throat. "Afternoon, ma'am. Happy Holidays to you and yours!"

To the left, Eliza and Philip were waiting for Alexander and John to get off the plane. When they did, they came right over.

"Alex," Eliza smiled warmly, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, 'Liza!"

"How was Nevis?"

"Good, awesome... it was nice to reconnect with some of my roots, you know?"

"For sure." 

"Life's good?" Alex asked, "Angelica and Adrienne are fine?"  

"Yeah," Eliza continued to smile, "They visit all the time- we wouldn't have it any other way. And life with you?"

"It's fine, yeah... finally put a ring on John," he chuckled, and John smirked with a little wave. "It was cool showing him where I came from."

"Congratulations," she smiled at the two of them, "Philip's so excited to have two dads to visit on weekends."

"Yeah!" the ten year old added, hugging the legs of John and Alex. John ruffled his hair, and Eliza hugged Alex.

Over to the right, Laf grinned, twirling around the airport as they made it in with Herc.

"France is magical in the winter!" they sighed, wrapping their royal blue scarf around their husband, "We must go back at least four times a year!"

"Anything for you," Herc grinned, sliding his arm around Laf. "You sure you're okay with leaving your family there to move back here to America?"

"Of course! This country is very beautiful. Plus, it is a new adventure, and I am ready to brave anything with you by my side! Unless we come face to face with your treacherous brother... eh..." he read the smudged writing on his hand. "Hugs Mummigan."

"Damn, you've become a meme," Hercules muttered, and Laf quirked his head.

"Excuse?"

"Nothing, honey. Let's beat the traffic and go home."

Among every story that the arrivals gate tell at Christmas time, everyone is special in its own right... the holidays are times for love, and love is love is love is love, in all of its forms, and is always, _always_ around.


End file.
